Knights Tales
by harllett
Summary: A night at the tavern. Random musings on life, love and liberty by everyone's favourite knights. [A series of oneshots.]
1. Gawain

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Gawain or Galahad. I do own Esme.

**Rating** : K

**Summary** : One night at the tavern. Random musings on life, love and liberty by everyone's favourite knights. A series of one-shots

**Author's Note** : Its amazing what random fic ideas come to you when you're half asleep, as this one did last night. There will be 7 chapters, each from the POV of a different knight, Gawain up first. They are very loosely linked by the fact they are all pondering in the same place (the tavern), but the thoughts and events will be individual toeach knight as I try to capture their personality. I hope you like what I do with them!

**Name meanings:**

**Esme** Emerald

* * *

**Gawain**

It was market day in the fort today, the air rich with the cries of peasants from the surrounding villages flogging their wares. Small children ran through the streets, darting between the legs of browsers and sellers alike. Shoppers wandered, idly swinging their baskets from their hands, enjoying the warm sun on their faces and the energy of the fort.

The fort comes alive on market day.

For me, my whole life comes alive on market day. For it is on market day that I see her.

She arrived this morning, with her sister, two packhorses laden with bags of the things they were selling. Baskets and mats, woven by her sister from rushes and reeds, twigs and sticks carefully stripped and whittled. Items of jewellery, forged by herself, nimble fingers working iron into delicate strands and twists.

I watched as they set up, unable to take my eyes off her laughing green eyes and tumbling strands of auburn hair. She isn't the prettiest of girls by any stretch of the imagination – far more attractive women live in the fort. Hell, I've bedded some of them. But there is something about her when she smiles, and when she laughs. She doesn't titter politely at comments – if something tickles her she throws back her head and laughs openly, her eyes sparkle, and her whole face comes alive with the simple pleasure of happiness.

I soon realised I was acting like a hawk after its prey, or like Tristan when he senses enemies - watching and waiting, hidden in the shadows. Making my way through the market place I deliberately avoided their stall, not willing to look overly eager. Women proffered vegetables, clothing, tools, but I didn't see them. My eyes were unfocused, my mind on the beautiful girl.

Finally I could no longer hold temptation at bay. Inwardly chastising myself at my inappropriate haste I hurried to her stall, slowing as I neared it. She was talking to a customer, a woman, smiling as she displayed an item of jewellery. The lilting tone of her voice carried across the air and I smiled. I could tell she was trying to persuade the woman to buy the object, but I could also tell she was sincere in her promise that it looked wonderful on her.

Before long the sale had been made and the customer wandered off, smiling to herself as she fastened the clasp of the necklace. The girl slipped the money into a box under the table then looked up. Her gaze fixed on me.

My step faltered but I forced myself forward, as she gave me a welcoming smile. She greeted me, her voice as musical as a brook running over a pebbled bed. Trying to exude an air of casual nonchalance, I lifted a brooch and turned it over in my fingers, admiring the intricate metalwork.

"May I suggest this?" She spoke to me softly. I looked up and blushed involuntarily as I met her gaze. She held something out to me. "It's our new range. For men." I took the item, goose bumps rising on my arms as my fingertips brushed the soft skin of her palm. It was a thick leather thong with a clasp at the back, the pendant a circle of burnished metal. Engraved on the back was the word courage. "We have courage, honour and pride," she told me. "I think courage is the most fitting for you." I looked up at her in surprise. "A Sarmatian knight, are you not?"

"Yes," I replied, my voice cracking. It was only then I realised how dry my throat was, and yet how sweaty my palms were.

"Then I see it as perfect. May I?" Wordlessly I handed the necklace back to her. She moved out from behind the stall and stood behind me, gently lifting my wild, untamed mane, her hands cool as they brushed my neck. I shivered. She reached around me and looped the leather strand around my neck, gentle fingers fastening the clasp. Then she grasped my arms and turned me round to face her. I tried to control my heart, racing at the proximity. "It looks great." She smiled and lifted a small mirror from the stall. I looked at my reflection unseeingly.

"I love it." I would have never said anything but that, even if it was the ugliest thing I had ever seen. I fumbled it my pocket for my money but she stilled my hand with her small one, another smile gracing her beautiful features.

"You defend our lives and our land every day without payment. Consider this a token of my appreciation."

It is evening now and I am in the tavern, along with the other knights. It is fuller than normal, some of the market stallholders still here, drinking to relieve the stresses of the day. I have been waiting for her for almost an hour now, and am just starting to come to terms with the fact that she must have gone home.

I slump into a chair, taking a deep gulp of my ale. I had finally come to the decision to at least speak to her, to put a name to the face that so often appeared in my dreams. I suppose now I'll just have to drink myself into an uncaring oblivion. I raise my tankard to my lips once more and freeze. She has entered the tavern.

Her glowing green eyes scan the crowded room and involuntarily my hand strays to the pendant around my neck. Her eyes land on me and she smiles in recognition. She says something to her sister and starts to weave her way over to me.

Oh no. She's coming over to me.

I hurriedly place the tankard back on the table and push my hair back, trying fruitlessly to untangle some of the matted locks with my fingers. She reaches me and gestures to the free seat on the opposite side of the table. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

"N-no. Not at all."

The smile she bestows upon me is breathtaking as she takes a seat. "You're Gawain, aren't you?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"I asked people." She blushes, looking, if it is possible, even more appealing than before. "I, uh, I mean…" She falters.

I smile, for once feeling like the calm one around her instead of the stuttering fool I become in her presence. "Now that you know my name," I say softly, "Maybe you could do me the honour of sharing yours?"

"Oh. I'm Esme."

'Esme,' I smile to myself. 'Emerald. Like her eyes.'

"Hey, Gawain!" I look around, and see Galahad beckoning to me. "What do you say we show these Romans how to throw a knife?" He grins as he lifts a dagger in illustration, before throwing it so it embeds itself in a wooden post.

My eyes drift back to Esme. "Not right now, Galahad."

"You can bring your new friend," he teases, his meaning evident in his voice. I flush red.

Esme smiles at me, her eyes sparkling. She stands and takes my hand, and without realising quite what is happening I stand. All I'm aware of is a heavenly chorus that has suddenly struck up a tune at her grasp on my hand.

"Come on," she says to me, and her lips brush my cheek for the briefest of seconds. "Maybe I'll be your lucky charm."


	2. Lancelot

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Lancelot or the knights. I do own Charis.

**Rating** : T

**Summary** : A night at the tavern. Random musings on life, love and liberty by our favourite knights.

**Author's Note :** Thank you for the reviews! Long reviews make me happy.

**Name Meanings :**

**Charis** - Grace

**WARNING - This chapter has been rated T. Please only read it if you're of a suitable age.**

**

* * *

**

**Lancelot**

I get bored of the tavern sometimes. Don't get me wrong, I love drinking and laughing and winding the hell out of Bors. But doing the same thing almost every night for fifteen years?

Okay, I'll be honest with you. The thing that bores me most is the simple fact that in fifteen years, I've slept with just about every woman in this place. Some are too old, some too young, and a very few seem able to resist my charms. One of them is Vanora, but much as I tease her and Bors, I respect her for it. I'd never do it anyway, not to a fellow knight.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not just some heart-breaking, love-'em-and-leave-'em type. Well, only slightly. I like women, and I enjoy being with them. I don't see anything wrong with that. For me it is a release, a way of getting rid of the tensions and stresses after a mission, a way of forgetting for a few sweet moments the lives that have ebbed away under a blow from my sword.

It is very rare that women from the surrounding villages come here, so my supply is depressingly limited. Today, however, is market day, and the tavern is thriving with new faces. Unfortunately, most of them are old women, grinning gap-toothed smiles. At least the missing teeth distract attention from the warts. Those who are more of a suitable age are not, shall we say, blessed with good fortune in the physical department.

I look up from the game of draughts I am playing with a Roman. Two girls have just entered the tavern. One of them looks around and her face lights up as she sees someone. I follow her line of sight and it lands on Gawain. Well, well, this must be the market girl that Galahad told us Gawain had fallen for.

I ponder for a moment, wondering if it is worth hitting on her, if only to irritate Gawain. But no, it isn't – whilst not ugly by any means she is rather plain, and anyway, Gawain is one of the few knights to learn not to rise to my taunting. Her companion, on the other hand…

I look back at the girl that must be her sister. Stunning green eyes and rich chestnut hair. A pert nose, and an expression of extreme boredom, as she pretends to be aloof. The night suddenly got better, I smirk to myself. Game on.

Pushing my chair back I swiftly cross the room, aware of the smirks and sighs of the other knights as they see me. They know when I have a girl in my sights. As I reach her I purposefully stumble, leaning on the wall next to her for support, bringing my body as close to hers as I dare.

She looks at me distastefully. "Can I help you?"

I hold my hand out in front of me and gaze at it in wonder, flexing my fingers. "Am I alive?" I gasp.

She raises her eyes at me. "Well, corpses don't tend to speak, so I'd say yes."

"Thank goodness," I reply. "When I saw you standing there I thought I'd gone to heaven."

She stares at me. I can hear Galahad's snort somewhere behind me, and Bors' bellow of laughter. "You're a pagan, you don't believe in heaven," she replies, and turns away from me. Now the knights' laughter is getting louder. I gawp at her back. This is possibly the first time a girl has behaved this way to me.

Rather than put me off, all she has achieved is making me even more determined to succeed. I quickly walk around her until I'm facing her once more.

"Will you sing for me?" I ask, giving her my most charming look. "I hear angels have the most beautiful voices." There. That should do it. I lean against the wall, satisfied, waiting for the shy smile to come to her face as it has come to so many faces before.

She leans towards me and I grin. Success. She moves so her mouth is right next to my ear and whispers, her breath warm on my skin. "I know you're expecting me to fall at your feet and run to your bedroom, but I have news for you. Firstly, I do not appreciate being likened to something I do not believe exists. Secondly, I know your type, and no terrible line is going to get me into bed. Thirdly, you smell disgustingly of horses." With that, she turns on her heel and stalks off, leaving the tavern and slamming the door behind her.

I stare after her, certain that my jaw must be on the floor, I'm in so much shock. Now I'm really turned on.

I quickly follow her, past Galahad and Gawain who are howling with laughter, and out the tavern. I can just see her up ahead. Turns out the thrill of the chase is even more exciting than having women fawning all over me. As I catch up to her she whirls around.

"Are you stalking me?" She demands. "Knight or not, you have absolutely no right to be following me."

"How can I resist the view from behind?" She rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips. "Has anyone ever told you you're cute when you're angry?"

"Listen to me. You may have been hit on the head with blunt objects by Woads over the years, but surely you can't be so stupid as to not be aware of the fact that I really, really want you to go away."

I smirk, edging closer to her. "You don't mean that."

"Trust me, I do."

"Don't lie." I grin at her. "Just let me show you what you're missing." Before she can respond I grasp her waist and pull her to me, pressing my lips against hers, waiting for her to melt into me like women usually do. She's stiff for a few second, then her hands come to rest on my shoulders and she kisses me back passionately. Hallelujah.

After a few moments I realise that this actually is incredibly blissful, far better than many other kisses I've experienced in my lifetime. I give a moan of protest when she pulls away.

"Now you know what you're missing," she tells me. It takes a while for my brain to register her words. "And a tip for you – learn to take no for an answer." With that, she grasps my shoulders, pulls down, and then brings her knee up to connect firmly with a particularly tender part of my anatomy.

I give a shriek of pain and fall back onto the ground, clutching myself in agony. She smirks down at me then turns and strides back to the tavern, leaving me nursing both my pride and my pain.

**XXX**

Once I've recovered I skulk back into the tavern, glowering at everybody. She is standing near the door but I ignore her, walking over to sit next to Dagonet, who gives me a sympathetic smile. In a few moments she is by my side, whispering in my ear once again.

"You learnt to listen."

"Yes, well, your message was pretty clear." She laughs, and it is a surprisingly clear, innocent sound, not the witch's cackle I had started to expect.

"Men never listen to me. I had to find a way to make you." With that, she deposits herself on my lap, and begins kissing me passionately. After a few moments I'm gasping for breath.

"You're twisted!" I manage to say.

"You mean you didn't enjoy that?"

"That's not what I said." I kiss her again. "I don't even know your name."

"Charis," she replies. "I suppose you'll need to know it later when you want to scream it." She smirks and stands, taking my hand and dragging me to my feet. I look over my shoulder as she leads me from the tavern, hoping that at least one of the knights has noticed my success. Only Arthur is watching me, from where he has just entered the other side of the tavern. I wink at him and he shakes his head, but there is a slight smile at his lips.

I feel a tug on my hand and look round. Charis is gazing at me questioningly. I smile and plant a rough kiss on her lips, then lead her to my quarters. The thrill of the chase is exciting, but the reward is enjoyable too.


End file.
